It Was A Dark And Stormy Night
by drakontion
Summary: *Disclaimer: this story is based on characters which I didn't create. It contains Slash. If you don't like it, or don't like fanfic, or don't like R/S, don't read.


_It was a dark and stormy night_, Remus thought melodramatically, staring anxiously out the rain-beaten window into the lightning ridden darkness beyond. Where was Sirius? He was due back hours ago. These were dark times, and being late on a night like this was not trivial matter. Remus went into the kitchen to check the back windows in case Sirius came in that way.

He was just starting to make himself a cup of tea in distraction, when he heard the familiar angry rumble of Sirius' motorbike striving to out-growl the thunder outside. He turned with a relieved smile on his face that was quickly replaced with concern as Sirius opened the door and stood there, framed by the storm.

"Sirius," he gasped, "you're soaking wet. Where have you been?"

Sirius didn't respond. Remus stifled further queries and handed him the tea towel. "Here," he said practically, "use this to dry yourself off while I get a towel."

He quickly filled the kettle, put it on the stove, and turned the element on before heading to the bathroom at a trot. Coming back with an armful of towels he saw Sirius still standing in the same spot, tea towel dry, as he dripped on the lino.

"Sirius, what's wrong?" Remus asked.

No answer.

He grabbed the top towel and draped it over Sirius' shoulders, dropping another one on the floor to mop up the growing puddle. The kettle started to whistle, and he turned away to pull it off the stove, but before he could move more than a step he felt Sirius' cold hand on his shoulder, gripping. He stopped, and turned a quizzical face to his flatmate. Sirius was looking at him, grey eyes stormy and hard, mouth compressed.

_He looks terrible_, Remus thought, looking at the deep shadows under his eyes and the blue tinge to his lips. More than that though, Sirius looked… haunted, agonised. His face was deathly pale and slicked by the rain. His hair was flattened to his skull, a far cry from his usual easy debonair elegance.

"Sirius," Remus whispered, barely audible over the shrill insistent whistle of the kettle, "are you OK?"

As if in answer, Sirius' hand tightened on Remus' bony shoulder, cold fingers gripping almost painfully. He took a step forward, levered Remus around to face him, then without warning or ado pressed his mouth violently to Remus' in a fierce kiss.

His lips were as cold and clean and harsh as the blade of a sword. Remus could feel the steel behind the kiss even as his lips parted in a gasp of surprise. He felt the sharp edges of Sirius' perfect white teeth and tasted rainwater and blood. Sirius' other hand came up behind his head and his fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tightly, holding his head in place as his mouth was ruthlessly, coldly plundered.

Even though he felt repelled by Sirius' strange behaviour, Remus couldn't help but be excited. Finally, he had what he'd been dreaming of ever since they'd left Hogwarts – Sirius in his arms and kissing him. He swayed forward and pressed his hands to Sirius' cold wet chest, feeling his heart beat. The blood rushed in his ears in a strange, compelling antiphony to the screaming kettle in the background. His eyelids fluttered closed as he gave himself to the kiss. It felt like it lasted an eternity.

Remus was brought back to himself as Sirius wrenched himself free and stumbled back out the door. His bike roared to life in the yard. By the time Remus had gathered the presence of mind to look out the open doorway, Sirius was gone.

Bemusedly, he closed the door against the storm then wandered to the stove and removed the kettle. Gingerly he fingered his chill, bruised lips. Pulling his hand away, he saw a drop of bright red blood on his finger. He shivered and wiped his hand on the tea towel, dropped forlornly on the kitchen floor, then mopped up all the water before heading upstairs to bed.

The next day he heard the news – Lily and James killed by Voldemort, young Harry homeless, Peter dead, and Sirius imprisoned for the deed.

Heart breaking, he wept, a quick scatter of tears that was all he could allow himself at the loss of his friends, his dreams, and the potential that had been hinted at. He went on blindly, lonely, trying in vain to reconcile his life, to find answers.

It wasn't until much later, when his heart had finally stopped aching at the mere mention of his name, that he realized Sirius had been telling him goodbye.

And by then it was too late.


End file.
